


festina lente

by aduviri



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Morning After, Morning Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aduviri/pseuds/aduviri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey and Mike have a lazy morning in bed. Morning after first time fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	festina lente

The pale grey light is pouring through the windows; New York is never really dark, even at the ungodly hour of—Harvey glares blearily at his clock until the numbers come into focus—2:57 in the morning. His brain is sluggish, slow to react, and so he doesn’t realize why he’s up at the indecent time until he shifts to his right side and feels the other half of the bed dip in response.

 _Mike_.

He props himself up on one elbow, vision clearing and sharpening in the glowing, washed-out room. The sheets cast off their own strange light, and it washes over Mike where he lays beneath them. His left leg is twisted and tangled in the edge of the sheets, foot sticking over the edge of the bed; the rest of him is mostly covered.

The tantalizing stretch of flesh that Harvey can see begins at the base of his neck in the nest of blond thatch and continues down across his shoulders. The dip of his shoulder blades is oddly delicate; his spine is a smooth line that runs down the planes of his back before it’s rudely interrupted by the harsh white of Harvey’s thousand thread count sheet. It’s odd, but he finds himself annoyed with the fabric. The only solution he can see is to remove it.

Slowly, not wanting to wake Mike, he hooks an index finger beneath the sheet and tugs down, down, down, a gradual exposition of lightly sunkissed skin. When the fabric slides down over the curve of his ass, Harvey can’t help but briefly run a cupped hand down the curve, settling for an endless moment where Mike’s thigh met the gentle curve of his ass, running a finger around the pouting curve before hooking onto the sheet again. He tugs it away from its entanglement with Mike’s leg in sharp little jerks until it breaks free, and then Mike is soft and vulnerable and completely bare beside him. All he wants is to touch, so he does.

He ghosts his fingers over the inside of a calf, trails lightly up the backs of his thighs, allows himself a brief teasing touch to Mike’s hole (still wet from lube and if it were a little later in the morning, Harvey would have a difficult time stopping at a brief touch), and then settles into a rhythm of tracing his thumb slowly up and down the sensual curve and dip of Mike’s spine.

He falls asleep with his hand settled at the nape of Mike’s neck, their bodies inexplicably closer, his nose pressed into the soft spikes of Mike’s golden hair.--

\--

Mike has never been an early riser, but when he wakes and the clock reads 5:00 a.m. he is somehow not surprised. After all, Mike has never been one who gets somewhat drunk and has mind-blowingly amazing sex with his damnably attractive boss, so today—or, rather, this weekend—seems to be a fitting time for breaking routine.

Still, he feels no pressing need to move, despite his rising awareness of being completely naked; he can feel a warm collar of pressure around the back of his neck, and another point of warmth against his scalp. A few moments’ observation, the feel of his hair fluttering against and away from his face in a slow pattern leads to the obvious conclusion: Harvey is a _cuddler_ , his “I don’t have feelings” spiel be damned. Harvey, _his_ Harvey, is pressed against his head, his breath in his hair, a wonderfully soft and full mouth pressing gently against the curve of Mike’s ear.

He turns, carefully, and as his head moves Harvey’s shifts until the tip of Mike’s nose is pressing an indent into the side of Harvey’s. Mike wiggles back a bit more, reveling in the feel of Harvey’s fingers pulling against the back of his neck, and finally settles, his face perhaps four inches away from Harvey’s.

He relaxes, his eyes wandering over the lines of Harvey’s face, the strong line of his jaw, the gentle, subtle curve of his cheek, the cutting line of his cheekbone. His eyebrows, normally furrowed in thought or raised in a fit of sarcasm or pique, are relaxed, arching over the gentle slope of his eyelids and the dark striking splay of his eyelashes. His lips are kiss-swollen ( _I did that, I did, that’s my tooth mark, my mouth made them so red_ ) and soft, pink like the very beginning of dawn that is swelling in the sky beyond the massive glass window panes.

He drifts away to sleep like this, memorizing the planes and crags and slopes of Harvey’s face. As he slips off, he feels the beginnings of a smile pressing at the corners of his mouth, an overflow of joy that he is unable to contain.

\--

When Harvey stirs again, the sun has begun to rise. The room is painted in shades of gold and oaken brown and deep cherry red, and the streaks of light are falling across Mike. Mike who has managed to roll over in the night, Harvey’s hand now draped across his chest, fingers curling in on his birdlike collarbone. He can feel the flutter of Mike’s heart against the bare skin on his wrist, and he thinks that never in his life has he felt so powerful and so vulnerable at the same time.

He pulls back, sits up, leans on his hands, elbows locking. Mike is spread before him, naked and shameless, his legs spread just enough that if Harvey wanted to, he could crawl between them, fitting like interlocking puzzle pieces, just in the right place to lean down and suck Mike’s soft cock into his mouth, to roll it against his tongue until it hardened, until he was drooling around it, coaxing Mike into a sleepy, hazy orgasm.

Harvey’s dick decides that this is a delectable idea, and his body goes along with it, and so it is that he finds himself crawling between Mike’s thighs with no real recollection of when he moved to get there. And then he is situated, unable to even feel foolish about it, because Mike’s thighs, taut from biking and running around for _him_ , for _Harvey_ , are warm against his forearms, and in front of him Mike’s dick lies like a challenge, a dare. He leans in, presses his nose to the downy gold curls, breathes for a moment. He can smell his cologne mixed with Mike’s, the scent of Harvey rubbed into Mike’s skin, and he feels himself harden just that little bit more.

Mike shifts, then, spreading his leg out a little more as he sleeps, and Harvey can feel the muscle tighten and release beneath his cheek, and yes, now would be a good time to continue with his plan. He lifts his head, gives a teasing lick to the crease of Mike’s thigh just to taste his golden skin, and then he moves back up, opens his mouth just enough to envelop the head of Mike’s dick. He sucks, softly, his tongue finding that small hole and gently probing, sliding away and under the head, curling lightly beneath before he pulls back to lave his tongue down the thick vein, tracing it until he hits Mike’s balls.

He teases them with the hand he isn’t using to support himself, rolls them around in the palm of his hand, and presses slow, meandering, suckling kisses all the way back to the head, and _there_. Mike is nearly fully hard now, twitching with every brushing touch of Harvey’s mouth to his cock, and again Harvey gets that heady double-sided rush of _power_ and _vulnerability_ , and as if in response to it he raises his head and sinks down on as much of Mike’s dick as he can in one go.

He rolls Mike’s balls as he slides up and down the spit-slick shaft, and now he can hear small sleep-muffled noises from above. Slowly, cautiously, he slides his hand further down, probing against the perineum, a light massage that grows harder and harder as the noises grow louder and louder, and then, “ _Harvey_.”

His name is choked, a muffled word that sounds like a prayer in Mike’s soft, sleep-roughened voice. He pulls off, trailing his bottom lip against the head, feeling the moisture of precome smear against his mouth, and responds, “Mike.”

A choked sound that was most likely a laugh shakes Mike’s frame, and he presses up against Harvey with a cross between a sigh and a groan.

“Please,” he says, and Harvey is secretly powerless against Mike when he says that word normally, but now, when he’s naked and writing beneath Harvey, completely at his mercy, hard and aching and begging for release, it’s like a fucking steamroller. He bends down again, laps up the pearly drops that are leaking from the tip, and Mike _whines_ high and desperate in the back of his throat, but damned if Harvey will let Mike rush him.

He takes his time, hooking Mike’s knees over his shoulders, mouthing up and down his cock, pulling away and rolling Mike’s balls against his tongue. He smirks when Mike shifts against his mouth, restless, and in reprimand sucks a gentle mark onto the base of Mike’s cock. A keen erupts from the other man, knees tensing over his shoulders, and oh, Mike’s arching off the bed as best he can.

Harvey can picture it, Mike’s body one long smooth curve, his shoulders the only part of his body touching the mattress, his head and neck thrown back against the pillow, mouth open in a wordless cry, and he smiles against Mike’s dick, leans up and blows lightly on the wet head before leaning in to suck away the precome, rolling it around on his tongue just to taste.

He nuzzles at Mike’s balls again, but he has a different game in mind. He hitches Mike’s legs, adjusts his grip, and presses a lingering open-mouthed kiss to Mike’s hole.

“God, Harvey, Harvey, _yes_ ,” Mike cries, and Harvey can _feel_ his head thrashing against the pillow, the bedframe shaking. Pleased with the response, Harvey shows his approval by pressing down and twisting his tongue in, tensing and pointing it, teasing at the ring before he slides deeper. Mike’s contracting around his tongue, soft, shivery little pulses, and Harvey could fly right now. He curls his tongue while inside Mike, rolls it, pulls back out again to trace feather-light touches against the outer ring of muscle that flutters at his every touch. He can taste Mike and the slightly bitter taste of the lube, and he pulls away for a moment. Mike’s shivering now, arms and legs trembling, his mouth caught in an open-mouthed panting.

Harvey rummages in the drawer, frowning as the box evades his grasp. Mike catches his wrist, murmurs, “I’m clean, I’m tested, it’s okay,” against the skin, and _fuck_ , he’s actually going to do this. He ducks back down between Mike’s legs, his tongue pressing rough and quick against the hole, and Mike must actually be making an effort to relax, because there’s barely any resistance against his tongue. There are no nervous contractions this time, and so Harvey decides to remedy it by introducing a finger alongside his tongue.

Mike practically levitates off the bed.

Harvey feels the leftover lube squelch against his finger, and he draws it out, rubbing it around Mike’s entrance, massaging the little pink ring as his tongue prods deeper. He reintroduces his finger, and then slides another in, pushing in time with his tongue, little rocking motions that have Mike canting his hips upwards and begging silently, which is _not good enough_.

He adds a third finger, spreading them, pulling them nearly all the way out, removing his tongue entirely and prodding gently at Mike’s swollen pucker, watching in fascination as they sink in before pulling them out.

“You want me in you so bad you’re sucking me in,” Harvey marvels, teasing at the entrance and marveling as Mike’s hole contracts in an attempt to pull his finger inside.

“Harvey, oh, oh fuck, Harvey, _please_ ,” and there it is, Mike’s voice shattering on the last pleading note, and Harvey can’t wait anymore. He shifts, pulls Mike’s hips down as he rises to his knees, guides his cock to Mike’s hole, and there it is, the sweet ring teasing at his head, and now the slick wet heat is clinging to his bare cock as he slides home. He can’t open his eyes, can barely gasp one breath after another. One of Mike’s knees is still hooked on Harvey’s shoulder, the other curling around his waist, preventing him from moving.

“Mike,” he breathes, “Mike, are you…?”

“M’fine,” Mike says, “m’fine, I just…I can feel you pressing in me, and you’re…fuck, I can feel every fucking inch and you feel so good, filling me up, fuck, Harvey.”

And Harvey _does_ open his eyes at that, looks up at Mike’s face, pale save the bright red flush high on his cheekbones, sinfully red mouth hanging open, blue eyes glazed over and nearly black with desperation. “Mike, just let me…”

“Yeah,” Mike huffs, and as soon as he loosens his leg Harvey grabs his knee, pushes it against Mike’s chest, and begins to ease out. They both groan at the easy friction, and when he glides back in just as slowly Mike arches against him.

He can’t keep that pace for long, and so he speeds up, faster, harder, bending Mike nearly in half at the waist, and he can feel that nub brushing against his cock, and Mike’s incoherent with pleasure, little gasps that could be Harvey’s name escaping his lips with every jolting thrust Harvey delivers. He tries to move his hand to his cock, but Harvey stops moving, and so he clenches his fists in the sheet with a sob.

As he pushes deeper and deeper into the hot suction, he flashes back to last night, the stumbling home from the bar, Mike leaning just a little too close—the elevator, Mike’s leg between his thighs, fumbled kisses, drunken declarations, and then…this. And Harvey leans in, impossibly close, slows his thrusts to little more than slow rotations of his hips, and, lips brushing Mike’s ear, says, “I want you like this every morning.”

And Mike comes without a hand on his dick, wordless cry spiraling out into the air, his ass clenching around Harvey like a vice, rhythmic pulses sucking him deeper and deeper in. He cries out, thrusts once, twice, and then comes in frighteningly intense pulses.

When he completely comes back to himself, Mike’s legs are tangled loosely around his waist. His knees are aching, but he ignores them as he slides back, slipping out, disregarding Mike’s moan. He crawls up and collapses beside Mike, who turns on his side to face him. And with that mouth so close, what else can Harvey do but lean in and capture that gorgeous plush lower lip between his teeth. Mike slides in closer, sinuous, tangles their ankles together even as his tongue gently traces the seam of Harvey’s mouth. They stay like that, exchanging lazy open-mouthed kisses, some of them more mingling of breath than kisses, until the world fades back in

Colors and shapes bleed in. It’s fully morning now, the sun shining brightly into the room. The fountain in the living room trickles quietly, a lulling soundtrack to their interlude.

“I don’t want to move,” Mike murmurs against Harvey’s mouth.

“That’s because you’re lazy,” Harvey answers, bringing a hand up to smooth down the length of Mike’s back, relishing the dip of his spine.

“Don’t see you moving either, old man.” Mike nuzzles his nose against Harvey’s, a blatant attempt to take the sting out of his words. Harvey doesn’t know to be impressed with Mike or disappointed with himself when the tactic works.

“It’s Sunday,” he replies, nipping at Mike’s mouth out of spite. Mike laughs into the bite, running his tongue against the bottom of Harvey’s teeth.

“A lazy Sunday?” he asks, pressing his foot in small circles against Harvey’s inner calf. “Please?” he adds, hopeful, and his voice is ragged from the screaming, and it’s too soon for Harvey to be thinking like that.

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” he muses, adopting an obviously false frown. Mike snorts, rubs his cheek against Harvey’s chin. Harvey wraps himself around Mike, resting his chin on Mike’s head, and drifts back to sleep. Before he goes, he feels Mike’s breathing even out.


End file.
